He said, “Well, let's see what we can do about this.
How about the big building across from the Cathedral?" I
said, “What building?" He said, “The Palazzo, the brownstone
building.” I said, “The one with the courtyard?" He said,
“Yes.” I said, “Monsignor, besides being the stupidest
publisher in America, I'm probably one of the poorest. We
can't afford a building like that.” He said, “Oh, nonsense.
It's not one building. It's four buildings.” That was the
first time that I knew that there were two wings plus two
separate buildings in the center. He said, “That north wing
would be just about right for you. Joe Kennedy owns it now.
He bought it. We'll make him give it to you for what he
paid for it.” I said, “Wait a minute. I don't care what
you could make Joe Kennedy do. We can't afford a building
like that.” He said, “You haven't even heard what it would
cost you. Keep your shirt on!”

He phoned his assistant at the Cathedral, and
ordered, “Get me Joe Kennedy.” At this time Joe Kennedy
was just a name to me. He had been ambassador in Great
Britain, but I mean, the days of his great fame lay ahead
of course.